Juste la façon dont vous êtes
by twirltheflag
Summary: Lea Williams, Canada's rebel, meets a man, banned from seeing her family. things get interesting & dramatic real quick. Will Lea's family give her a chance at life & love? Or will a jealous country ruin it all? Rated for language and themes and may change
1. Chapter 1

**FYI: Title means "Just the way you are".**

~Info and Part 1~

Name: Lea Williams

Alliace: Quebec

Age: Technically, she was born in 1763 so, in 2011, she'd be 248. But she looks 16. Keep that in mind. Confusing… I know.

Height: 5'9"

Looks: Waist length hair that was bleached white. Bangs to chin, brushed over left eye and dyed teal blue. Grey-blue eyes. Usually wears blue eye shadow and thick black eyeliner. Pale fair skin. Has a icicle tattoo circling her right bicep. She wears a lot of leather, black, ripped clothes, real skinny jeans, converses or boots, studs, etc.

Background: Her family (meaning all the other Canadian provinces as her siblings, Canada as her father, and America and England as her Uncles) has pretty much deemed her as the punk and the rebel.

Let's begin.

...

"LEA! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

"No, actually, I'm not."

And why would I be listening to him?

All dad ever did was criticize my clothes or my attitude or my actions or my opinions or anything that had to do with me.

So, here we were again, in the kitchen. I was sitting at the bar with my leather clad feet propped up on the top of the counter. My arms were crossed over my chest and I was leaning back with my closed eyes to the sky.

Dad stood across from me while Uncle Alfred was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

Uncle Arthur was sitting right next to me in a very polite manner.

God, I hated these people.

Uncle Arthur smacked me upside the head, jolting me awake; I was on the border of falling asleep.

"Pay attention to your father. And get your feet off the table."

He pushed my feet off the counter top, much to my distain.

Dad started back at the beginning of his lecture.

"This is the billionth time that you have tried to run away from home."

Uncle Alfred decided to chime in.

"Not to mention the fact that you tried to steal from the families back account before you left."

Uncle Arthur joined the mud-slinging fest.

"What makes you think you'll last a day, out on your own?"

I pointed right at Uncle Alfred.

"If that dunder-head can do it, so can I."

Dad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You're not Alfred. You're just not as strong as he is."

'Oh, here we go with the whole commercial.'

I stared out the window while dad went on & on & on. It was dark grey outside and it was starting to lightly snow.

God, if dad was gonna go on about how I can't survive on my own, then why can't he make it so that I can survive at home?

I don't like everything that my family likes. They were all bred by Arthur and brought up on the English ways.

Those things never interested me.

And everyone resented me for it.

My siblings were merciless to me. My father didn't even give me a chance to grow and learn on my own.

And Uncle Arthur was the worst among them.

He treated me like dirt.

I always got this feeling that I reminded him of an old arch enemy, or something like that. And, because I resemble this mystery enemy, he takes out all his anger of that person out on me.

An outcast in my own family.

No one deserves that.

Fists slammed against the table.

"LEA! YOU'RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION!"

"Yeah, because, I pretty much have this speech memorized. Time to come up with something new, dad."

That sent him through the roof.

"THAT'S IT! GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

I glared at him and pushed myself from the table.

"Fine. Anything to get away from the worst family ever.

I marched right out of the room and up the stairs.

All my older siblings were poking their heads out of there rooms, trying to see and hear everything that was going on.

When ever I passed by one of them, I stopped right in front of the door, glared at them, and made a move like I was gonna beat them up.

Every time I did this, they would get scared and slam their doors shut. Some, even locked their doors.

I got to my room at the end of the hall and slammed the door shut, locking it behind me.

~Meanwhile. Downstairs~

Mathew sat down at the table and ran his hands through his hair.

He was exahsted.

He was made.

He was upset.

He was frustrated.

He was sad.

He breathed a sigh.

"We've been doing this practically everyday for the past year now. Why can't we ever get it right?"

Arthur patted him on the back.

"You're not doing anything wrong. She's just going through a stupid rebellious phase. She'll grow out of it and then she'll be a proper young lady."

Some how, Mathew got a feeling that Arthur was wrong.

~Back to Lea~

I finished tying my bed sheets together.

The result was a long rope.

Like hell I was staying my room on a Saturday night.

I tied one end of the long rope to my bed post and flung the other end out the window.

I grabbed my-off-the-shoulders leather jacket, put it on and zipped it up.

I lowered myself down the rope until I was about two feet from the ground.

I jumped down and made a beeline for the woods.

I navigated myself through the woods that I had been through so many times as light snow started layering the ground.

After about 15 minutes of walking, I came out of the woods and found myself in Quebec City.

My city.

It was so beautiful on winter nights.

This place was my sanctuary.

I walked through the little streets, enjoying the light from the street lamps.

'This is right. I'm at peace. This is how it should be.'

"Well, well, well."

'So much for being at peace.'

I turned around and glared at that smug little man.

"Here's the little Canadian Princess."

"Shove off, Greenland."

"No need to be so formal, min dejlige."

"How many times do i have to tell you? Stop calling me that and leave me alone, pervert."

I turned on my heel to walk away but he grabbed my forearm and made me look at him.

"Don't leave yet. The night is young. Life is short. You are…"

He started ogling my chest.

I brought fist back to punch him.

"Excusez-moi?"

I looked behind me.

**Min dejlige-My lovely(Danish)**


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

A tall man with shoulder length blond hair tied back into a pony tail. His chin was cover in stubble. He wore a black trench coat that went to just above the knees and a blue scarf was wrapped around your neck.

He wore a smirk on his face.

Greenland's grip on my arm got tighter.

"What do you want, Franskmand? Can't you see we're a little busy?"

The man scoffed.

"What I can see, monsieur, is that you are disturbing the petite dame de day."

Greenland glared at him. "What's it to you?"

"A crime against feminine delicacy; that's what it is to me. After all, why would a lady want to go around with a punk like you?"

Greenland was really hot and bothered.

He let go of my arm and got right up in the man's face.

"You're asking for it, Jeune Français."

"I'm not asking for anything. I just think that the women should make their own decisions, especially when it comes to who their escort is going to be. So, ma dame, you have the floor."

They both turned to me.

I looked between them. Greenland still wore a hard face from being up-staged. The blond man had a warm smile on his face and he offered me his arm.

It wasn't too hard of a decision.

I slowly walked up to the blond man and lightly hooked my arm with his, placing my free hand on his bicep.

I watched Greenland as this stranger escorted me away. He was pissed. He kicked some a light pole and stomped away.

I turned my face forward.

"I could have handled that by myself."

"I don't doubt that for a moment."

"So, why did you step in?"

He thought about it for a moment.

"In truth, I just saw you and what he was doing to you and, before I knew it, I had said something."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I'll I know is that it's the truth. You can believe whatever you want."

I looked at him and he smiled at me.

There was something in his eyes that told me to believe him, so decided that I would.

But, he was still a strange man that I knew nothing about.

I looked back to see if Greenland was stalking u, as he tended to that sometimes. Once I saw that he wasn't around. I unhooked my are from the strangers and breathed into my hands, trying to warm them up.

"Looks like you could use some chocolat chaud."

I looked at him and saw that he was gesturing towards a 24 hour café.

"Thanks, but I'm alright."

I started walking away when the stranger took one of my hands and pressed it between his.

"Goodness, enfant! You are anything but alright. Your fingers are about to freeze off. Come. Join me for some chocolat chaud."

I looked him straight in the eye.

"Why are you treating me like we're friends?"

"Because I assumed that we were."

"I don't know anything about you. I don't even know who you are."

He gave me another smile.

"My name is Francis Bonnefoy. I was born and raised in Paris, France. I'm the strange one in my family. I enjoy good food, matching wine, nice clothes, slow music, long walks on chilly nights… and you. What else do you need to know?" He offered me his arm again.

I looked at him, trying to think of something to say, but all I could think about is what he said; _I'm the strange one in my family_. Something we had in common. Maybe for different reasons, but still.

I looked between him and the café, knowing that he wouldn't back down until I agreed to join him.

I nodded and took his arm.

He lead me to the café with the biggest smile on his face.

We enter the café and go up to the desk.

I order a French vanilla hot chocolate and he orders a peppermint hot chocolate.

Once we get our drinks, we take a table by the window.

He slipped off his trench coat and draped it over the back of the chair. I did the same with my leather vest, revealing my aqua tank top.

"No wonder you were so cold. I'm quite surprise you are not sick."

"I've live here since I born; I've gained an incredible resistance to the weather."

He smiled at me. He rested his elbows on the table.

"Now, you know everything you need to know about me but I know nothing of you."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Your name, first off."

"Lea. Williams."

His smile widened. He stretched his hands across the table and picked mine up.

"Plaisir de vous rencontrer, Lea Williams."

He lightly kissed my hand.

I just kinda stared at him; now man had ever done that and I really didn't know how to respond.

He released my hand and I let it rest on the table.

"Now, question number 2; What is a young lady like yourself doing out on the town, at this time of night, all alone."

I looked him in the eye, debating what I should say. Should I lie? Should I tell him the truth? Should I tell him to go jump off a cliff?

Option 3 was out because he saved me and bought me hot chocolate.

But, I still didn't trust him enough to go with Option 2.

I sipped my hot chocolate and said, "I do this every night. The city is so beautiful, especially in winter, and it calms me."

I took another sip of my hot chocolate and watched his eyes. He facial expression didn't change. Was he buying it?

"So, what the real reason?"

How very perceptive of him.

I stayed silent for a while, just rubbing the edge of my mug, not meeting his eyes.

'Should I tell him?'

I looked into his eyes, trying to find answer to my own question. Even though his face was straight, his eyes reflected that he knew something was wrong.

"Can I tell you the truth and not regret it?"

He slowly nodded.

"I'm running away from home."

He popped his eyebrows in slight surprise.

"Originally, I was just breaking my curfew, bailing on being grounded and just going for a Saturday walk. But, I later realized there was no reason to ever go back."

"Are you sure about that?"

"100%."

"So, you're going to live on your own. You think you can take care of yourself?"

"Of course."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"I'll find one."

"A job."

"I'll find one."

"Can you cook?"

I stayed silent. I had never learned any of that home ec stuff; learning how to cook British would be learning how to comit suicide.

Francis laughed at my silence.

"What about your family?"

"The reason why I'm running."

"Friends?"

"Don't have any."

"None at all?"

"Well, only two, but they're really my cousins and, usually, all of us are grounded so I don't get to see them that often."

"That's still a reason to stay."

"How do you mean?"

"Clearly, the three of you are all quite similar and you depended on one another to understand when no one else will. What will happen to them if you leave?"

He had a valid point.

The only why any of us had survived in our delusional families was because of each other.

We all had it so rough; Madison, ripped from her home in Russia. Alena had countries fighting over her like she was a wish bone and every country that wanted her was a dog. Eventually, Uncle Alfred won the custody battle but didn't acknowledge her as a daughter for 60 years. And, then, there was me; the only child of Canada who refused a British life style and was resented for it.

We were each other's crying shoulders and comforting hugs. When ever our fathers, uncles, siblings and cousins were cruel and unusual to us, we went to one another, separating ourselves from the world, and poured our heart outs, ranted, vented our anger and found ways to cheer each other up.

I hadn't ever tried to imagine my life with out them. I didn't ever want to. And, I suspected that they didn't they.

Francis rested his hand over mine. I looked him in the eye as he spoke.

"Now, I'm going to assume that you've tried to run away from home before. Have you ever gone back home on your own decision and will?"

I shook my head.

"Try it. Maybe the family that's chasing you away will give you a reason to stay when you get back."

He gave me a soft smile.

Who was this man? How could he convince me the way that he had?

"Come one. Finish you chocolat chaude."

...

We slipped our coats back on and stepped outside of the café.

We walked our way to the edge of town where my woods were. The walk was silent but I liked it. It gave me time to think.

Once we got to my woods, I turned to Francis.

"This is where we part ways."

"Before you go, I have an offer."

"Yes?"

"You want to, eventually, live on your own, but you don't know how to cook."

"Yes."

"Would you like to learn how?"

"… Are you offering?"

He flashes another smile at me. "Every Saturday, from noon to 5. Come to my cottage here and I can teach how to make the best in French cuisine."

For the first time, in a very long time, I gave someone, who wasn't my cousins, a genuine smile. "I might just take you up on that offer…. Goodbye."

He picked up my hand and kissed it, again.

"Adieu, petite chef."

I smiled as he walked away. I stood, just for a moment, watching him.

Then, I turned around and navigated my way through my woods until I got home.

My window was still open but my blanket rope was gone. I had to make due with the crisp vines growning on the side of our house.

I jumped through my window and, immediately, shit it behind me.

My room was so chilly from being open to the cold night air, so I turned on my heat and my electric blanket.

I changed into my flannel pajamas and crawled into bed, curling up in a ball.

Suddenly, I heard voices.

"Where could she have gone?"

"Matthew, stop worrying about her. Just shut her window, locked the doors and let her learn her leasson, out there, in the cold."

"Arthur, if I do that, she'll die. I know shes given all of us a lot of trouble, but she is, first and formost, my daughter."

"Maybe, there's something in her room that will tell us where she's gone."

"Good thinking, Alfred. Let's go look."

I heard my door open and light flooded in, shining on my back.

Silence cut through the air like a knife cuts butter.

I heard someone start to stomp into the room but then it stopped.

"No, don't wake her."

"Why not? She's made you worry for hours and, now she thinks that she can just slink back her and get into bed, without explaining herself."

"Don't you realize what has happened?"

Silence.

"She came back home… on her own."

More silence.

I heard the light footsteps of my father some closer. I felt him stand over me and look at me, making absolute sure, I was asleep.

Once he was convince, he gently placed his hand on my shoulder and lightly kissed my hair.

They all tip toed out and gently shut the door behind them.

I sat up and looked to the door.

Dad hasn't kiss me good night for two years. Or, had he, while I was asleep?

**Franskmand - French man (Danish)  
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**petite dame de - little lady's (French)  
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**Jeune Francias - French boy (Danish)  
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**ma dame - my lady (French)  
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**chocolat chaud - hot chocolate**

**enfant - child**

**Plaisir de vous rencontrer - pleasure to meet you**

**Adieu, petite chef - goodbye, little chef  
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	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

I woke up the next morning, put my hair up into a pony tail and threw a black sweatshirt over my "I'm With the Band" pajama shirt.

I slipped on my black fur slippers and made my way down stairs.

When I got down there, dad, Uncle Arther and Uncle Alfred were at the counter, which had breakfast fruit, toast, but, milk and orange juice at the ready.

I looked at the clock. 10:30. Sunday brunch.

I rolled my eyes, knowing that dad was gonna tell me to stay up in my room until he could talk; dad didn't like any of his kids around during brunch, especially me.

Dad turned around and looked at me.

"I'm just grabbing some cereal and I'll get out of your hair."

Right as I was about to grab a cereal bowl, dad said, "Actually, Lea, I was wondering if you'd like to join us."

I took a good look at the 3 men. Dad had hope in his eyes, Arthur was seething at the idea and Alfred… didn't really care.

I thought about it for a second and I decided to see where everything would go.

I took my seat next to dad and filled my plate. I grabbed 4 piece of toast and spread butter over them. I grabbed a granny smith apple and filled 2 glasses, one with mile, the other with orange juice.

For a while, the old farts just watched me. It was kinda creepy.

"Is there something you all want to know?"

The all exchanged looks and, then, my uncles sat back in their chairs. Dad said, "Actually, there are some questions."

"Shoot."

"Um… I came up to your room around 10 last night and you weren't there."

"So."

Arthur got mad. "So? So where were you?"

"Town."

"Where you with anyone?"

"I ran into one or two people."

"Who?"

"Greenland."

Arthur spoke up again. "THAT PUNK?"

Dad gave him a hand sign to tell him to calm down. Then, he turned back to me. "What happened?"

"He was giving me trouble and I was about to beat his ass when this man came up and gave me a hand."

"A man?"

"Yeah."

"Did you know him?"

"That was the first time I saw him."

"Did you get his name."

"Francis Bonnefoy."

I was sipping my orange juice when I noticed that the geezers were looking at me with shock and/or anger on their faces.

"Is something wrong?"

Arthur shot out of his chair again and start shaking his finger at me.

"YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME? NEVER SPEAK TO THAT MAN AGAIN!"

I shot out of my own chair and said, "Who do you think you are? You can't tell me what to do!"

"Both of you sit down and calm down! Arthur, if I want your opinion, I'll ask for it! Lea, show some respect."

Arthur, reluctantly, sat down and I followed suit.

Dad rested his hand on my back.

"What happened between you?"

"We had hot chocolate at a café."

"Did he try to slip you something?"

"No. I watched my cup like a hawk."

"Did you… tell him why you were out so late?"

I thought that it was best no to tell dad the whole truth. "No."

"What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing important; just this and that."

"Did he… ask to see you again."

"… He offered to give me cooking lessons."

Uncle Arthur decided to state his opinion, even though no one asked for it. "Tell him to buger off; I can give you cooking lessons."

I gave a glare. "If I want to learn food poison people, Ill give you a call."

He scowled but didn't cay anything.

"Do you _want_ to learn how to cook from him."

"Yeah, and I'm going to whether you like it or not."

"No. It's fine."

I looked at dad to make sure I heard him right. "What?"

"I think having you learn how to cook is… very good."

"Really?"

"Yes."

We both just kinda looked at each other. It had been ages since he let me do anything that I wanted to do. And even longer since we agreed on something.

"Alright. Then, I'll take the lessons."

"Alright. When are the lessons?"

"Every Saturday at noon."

"Where do you need to be?"

"The cottage that he owns here. I'll look it up."

"Ok. Sounds good."

"… Ok. Can I finish my breakfast in my room?"

"… Yeah. Just be careful."

"I will."

I picked my plate up and started walking back to my room when dad caught my arm and made me look at him.

"I'm… I'm proud of you."

"… For what?"

"For… seeing a good opportunity and taking advantage of it."

"… Thanks…"

He nodded and I went up to my room.

How long had it been since dad said he was proud of me? I didn't even remember

~Meanwhile~

Matthew watched his daughter go back up to her room.

Once the girl was out of ear shot, Arthur let his opinion run wild.

"Why are you letting her see him again? You know what he's like! You know what he's done!"

"Arthur, do you remember when she said she didn't tell him anything about running away from hom."

"Yes."

"She was lying."

Alfred looked confused. "How do you know?"

"She's my daughter; I've learned to read her. And, I think he said something to make her come back."

"Probably asked her to go to bed with him; any woman in their right mind would run away from him if he offered that."

"No. I think he said something that convinced that she could try again. Or, at least, made her realize that she can't take care of herself. After all, she's never wanted to learn home skills like cooking before. I think she's… maturing."

"But are you sure that this will end well?"

"… We're just going to have to wait and see."


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

I sat in my room, eating my breakfast while I researched French dishes that I should try to make.

Suddenly, I heard a plane engine fly over head.

A smile spread across my face as I tugged on a rope.

My sky light fell open. Wind and snow whipped into my room but I didn't mind.

Over the wind, I heard a voice.

A female voice.

Coming closer.

Screaming "ALOHA!"

My cousin, Alena, fell through the sky light.

She was petite and short with tan skin and ebony hair down to her waste. Her eyes were a warm brown.

She wore a tank top, a lay, a tied skirt and some flip flops.

She jumped to her feet and, immediately, started rubbing her arms.

"How can you stand this weather, you eskimo?"

"When you're born in an igloo, you become immune to the weather pretty damn quickly."

She looked at me in shock. "You were really born in an igloo?"

"No, you twit! And part of the reason why you're so cold is because of clothes.'

She looked at her outfit. "All the boys in Hawaii like this style."

"So, just because a blond surfer dude who, probably, dropped out of college says he likes your clothes, you're not gonna wear anything else, even when the clothes aren't correct for the weather?"

"That's the idea."

I laughed. "Well, get some boots; your toes will thank you."

She started pouting and crossed her hands over her chest. "Madison said the same thing."

That's when we heard a gun shot from just out side.

We both exchanged smiles and I said, "Talking of which…"

I tug on another rope the opened my window and sent a rope ladder down.

In a few seconds, a great mass covered in fur came rolling through the window.

Then, she threw her hood of. Her hair was brunette and her eyes matched perfectly.

Alena looked at Madison, is her huge fur coat, sweating like Niagara falls. She looked back at me & said, "Sorry, but the sweat fur ball look just doesn't suit me."

Madison scowled up at her while I just kinda smiled and help Madison to her feet.

As I help Madison get out of her winter hunting clothes, she said to Alena, "At least I won't loose any appendages to frost bite."

I smirked at the scowling Alena and said, "She's got ya' there."

I looked at both of them and said, "Well, we're all here. You know what that means."

I turned to book self and hit a button.

All the fake books turn back into the wall and was replaced by my alcohol stash.

"So, how's everyone's week been?"

My cousins rolled their eyes.

Madison started off by saying, "Damned politicians giving us trouble."

Then, Alena said, "Stupid mainlanders offering me a 'good time' again."

I nodded, keeping track of my week in my head and I decided.

"That settles it."

I grabbed a tall bottle filled with light yellow alcohol.

"Bacardi 151. Now, remember, no more than 5 shots; if our dads find us, drunk, we'll be skinned alive."

We each grabbed shot glasses and filled them with the rum.

"Bottoms up."

We all drank down our first shots.

Madison perked up and said, "You know, I have the perfect thing to go with this."

We both waited for her to grab something from her coat.

She brought out a zip lock bag what was filled with dried meat.

"Fresh Moose Jerky."

I popped my eyebrow at her. "How fresh is 'fresh'?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "I didn't kill it today."

"Good enough for me."

She tossed me and Alena the bag and we all got comfortable on the floor.

The both took a peak at my laptop.

"Why are you looking up French cuisine?"

"I'm taking cooking lessons."

The both looked at me.

"What?"

Madison put her hand on my shoulder. "Tell me you're not maturing."

"Hell, no! I just met a guy last night and he offered."

Alena leaned in. "How was he?"

"How was he what?"

"… You know…"

She started inclining her head towards the bed.

"I met the guy last night! You think I already went to the sack with him? After all my years of vowed virginity!"

She shrugged and said, "Well, if he learned French cuisine, chances are, he… learned some tricks of the trade from the most romantic country ."

"Alena, he knows French cuisine because he is French."

She looked at me in shock. "Now I'm really surprised; how could you turn him down?"

"He didn't offer."

"You're kidding!"

"No. In fact, instead of being a pervert, he saved me from one."

They both looked at me and said, at the same time, "Greenland?"

I nodded.

Madison held up her hand, telling me to stop. "Wait. He saved you. Since when do you need saving."

"Never. The fact is, I was about to punch his face off when Francis stepped up, told him off and said that, as a lady, I should choose my own escort. So, they left the choice up to me on who I would go with and I chose Francis."

Alena started fan girl squealing.

Madison held her hand up to stop me again. "Wait. Did you say his name was Francis?"

I nodded.

"Francis Bonnefoy?"

I nodded.

"Lea, he's France."

"Yes, we've established that he's from France."

"No, he's not from France; he _is_ France."

At first, I was really confused. Then I understood. His alias was France. He was a part of the World Confrence.

"Why didn't he tell me?"

Madison shrugged. "Who knows?"

Alena suggested, "Maybe he didn't want you to treat him any different. Or he didn't want you to act any different around him."

I nodded, thoughtfully.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Saturday.

Finally.

The day that I could start my cooking lessons.

I had just gotten dresses when there was a knock on my door.

"Come in."

Enter Emily.

Ontario.

Fashionista extraordinaire.

And the sister who insisted on never being associated with me in any and every way possible.

"Hiiiii, Leeeeaaaa!"

"… What do you want, Emily?"

"Why would you think I wanted something?"

"Because you never come into my room unless you want something _really badly_. The proof is in the number of homework assignments you've copied from me."

She gave me a playful push while she giggled, stupidly.

"Oh, Lea. Always the joker."

I popped my eyebrow at her, waiting for an explanation.

"Well, actually, I just came in here to give you something."

"It's not my birthday yet, Emily."

"Why do I have to have an excuse to give my little sister a little present?"

"Cause it's you."

She fake pouted at me until I agreed to accept her gift.

She opened the door and reached into the hall, saying, "I made it myself."

She pulled in a mannequin that was wearing aqua damasked apron with a black ribbon around the waist, black pockets and black damask lining and straps.

I stared at the apron for a second before I said, "No way."

"Come on! It matches you hair perfectly! And it has black in it! What's the problem?"

"I have a strict 'no ribbons, no lace, no ruffles' policy. Besides, I _am_ going to be cooking; chances are, I'm going to get grease or batter on it and, then, you're going to chase me around, trying to skin me alive for wrecking one of you "masterpieces"."

"Oh, I've prepared for the stains; theres a Tide Pen, ready and waiting in the pocket. And you'd look so cute in it."

I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Sis, you've never made clothes for me because you hate my idea of fashion. Now, your practically begging me to wear this. What's going on? Don't even try to act innocent; I can see right through it."

She walked up to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder.

"Alright, sis. You got me. The fact is, I want you to wear the apron because I know that your cooking teacher is a man from France."

"…. So?"

"Lea! France is Fashion Central! Only the best fashion designers will ever make it to France! The toughest critics in the Fashion world are from France! If you impress France, you impress the world!"

"And you think that if you impress one Frenchman then he'll start you on your way to being a judge on Project Runway, is that right?"

"You've got it, sis! And, if you do this for me, I'll make you full time model when I get there! What do you say?"

"Like I said, no lace, no frills, no ribbons."

I started marching out of the room when she said, "I'll pay you."

I froze.

Damn her for knowing my weakness.

"How much?"

"5 bucks."

I continued to march out of the room.

"10 bucks."

I turned back to her and said, "20."

"15."

I sighed and said, "Fine."

"Fab! Now let's get you dressed."

She untied the apron from the model and tied it onto me.

I looked so stupid in the damn thing.

"You look adorable! And it brings out the color of you eyes. Come on. Dad's waiting down stairs. Let's show him."

She dragged me down stairs and into our kitchen where dad, Uncle Aruther, Uncle Alfred and my litte brother, Ethan, were waiting.

The moment they saw me, Ethan and Uncle Alfred covered their mouths, trying to supress their laughter.

I shot them the coldest glare that I could.

Uncle Arthur looked extremely unhappy. What a surprise.

Dad smiled at me and said, "I like it. It fits you perfectly."

"… It does?"

"Yeah. It's your colors."

I looked down at the apron.

'I guess it does have my colors.'

Dad walked up to me and rested his hands on my shoulders.

"Ready to go?"

I nodded.

"Alright."

He kissed my forehead.

"Good luck, Lea."

"… Thanks."

I slipped my black trench coat on over the apron.

I grabbed my book bag, which had a few French cook books that I hade barrowed from the Library, and I walked out to my shiny, black and blue Civic.

I got in and started the car.

That's when I noticed day was waving to me.

He hadn't waved me good bye in a long time.

I, hesitantly, waved back.

I pulled out of the drive way and headed towards Francis' winter home.

…

I pulled into the drive way of Francis' cabin.

It was hidden pretty deep in the mountains. It was really refreshing.

I knocked on the door and was immediately greeted by the smiling blond in his own apron.

"Bienvenue, petit chef, to my little corner of heaven. "

I thanked him as he let me in.

The cabin was very warm and cozzy. It was like a hunting cabin but it also had all the latest cooking utensils.

I was in awe as Francis removed my coat and hung it up for me.

Then, I felt him staring at me. I looked at him and saw his face was in pleasant shock.

"What?"

He took my hands and turned me until I was fully facing him.

"I never pegged you as the type to wear something like this."

I scratched the back of my head, embarrassed. "My sister paid me to wear it… but she's not gonna know if I take it off."

I started to undo the bow in the back when Francis caught my wrist. "Don't take it off. It looks good on you."

I looked at him, skeptically. "It does?"

He nodded, smirking. "Très mignon."

I looked away, scowling.

The last thing I wanted to be was 'cute'.

Francis laughed and ruffled my hair before leading me into the kitchen.

"So what are we gonna make today?"

"Crêpes. Crepes.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

I stood at the bar, stirring a batter of flour, butter, sugar, eggs, salt, and milk.

Francis stood behind me, watching my every move.

"Très bon, Lea. Now, let that batter rest a little bit before cooking with it. In the mean time, with get the stove started."

I put the batter down and followed his to the stove.

He took up a skillet and turned on a burner. "Would you grab a stick of butter from the fridge, S'il vous plaît?"

"Sure."

I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the butter.

I walked back over to the skillet and Francis too the butter from me.

"Merci. Now, drop a tablespoon into the pan and let it melt all around the pan."

A cut a wedge from the stick of butter and dropped into the pan and spread it around the pan.

"Now, grab the batter and bring it over here."

I grabbed the bowl of batter and brought it over to the skillet.

Francis handed me a tablespoon ans said, "Now, scoop up 3 table spoons of the batter and drop it into the pan and spread it around so that its in a circle."

I did just as he told me and he said, "That's the way, petit chef. Now, we're going to cook that for a minute until the edges set and the top is just a little moist."

I nodded, letting him know I understood.

"So, can I ask you something? Not on the subject of cooking?"

"Of course, petit chef."

"… Why didn't you tell me who you were?""

He just kinda looked at me. "How do you know?"

"My cousins told me."

He nodded and said, "If I had told you, what would you have thought?"

"What do you mean, what would I have thought?"

"Wouldn't you assumed that, since I'm in the same line of work as your father, that your father had called me and told me to find you?"

"… That would be a logical assumption."

"But it wouldn't have been the right assumption; I was just walking around, minding my own business when I saw you be hasseled. That's the truth. I wanted you to trust me because, well, you can."

I nodded, understanding where he was coming from.

He gave me a light smile rubbed my back.

"Venez. Time to flip the crepe."

He handed me a spatula and I flipped my crepe. "Isn't there life some fancy way to flip it."

Francis started laughing and said, "We'll practice fancy cooking tricks every day, I promise. After all, people get points for that in cooking competitions. But for now, we'll do things the normal way. Now, cook that side for another minute and then scoop it onto this plate."

I did just as he said and scooped the crepe onto the plate once I was done.

Francis inspected the crepe and said, "Not bad for your first time, petit chef. Venez. Time to fill it."

He brought I over to his bar where there were a million fillings waiting.

"Now, you can make a savory crepe, which would be a great lunch or sack. Or you can make something sweeter which would be served for breakfast or a quick desert. What do you think?"

I thought about it and said, "Let's try a lunch crepe."

"Bonne." He hand me my crepe and I said, "Merci beaucoup."

He popped his eye brow at me. "Don you actually know French or are you just trying to learn from listening to me?"

"Listening to you."

"In that case, why don't we throw in some French lessons along with a the cooking? Besides, when we get to the foods that take a long time to cook, we're going to need something to do while we wait."

"Sounds good to me!"

"Très bon! I'm going to make my own crepe while you fill yours with everything you want."

"Ok."

I decided to fill my crepe with two mozzarella and provolone cheese, turkey, salami and onions.

Francis fill his with the same thing plus spinach and tomatoes.

We raised out crepes in a toast and said, "Bon appétit."

I bit into my crepe.

And I was in love.

It took all my strength not to gobble it all down in from of Francis (that wouldn't look too good).

"I am happy you are enjoying your work, mon petit chef. You know who else I think might enjoy your work?"

"Who?"

"Your family."

I looked at him, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or just trying to get me to trust my family.

He looked sincere. And I had to admit, I was curious to hear what they'd think.

Apparently, Francis could see that form the look on my face. He took my hand and asked, "Do you wanna make them some crepes?"

I, hesitantly and embarrassingly, nodded. "But it's gonna be a lot of crepes to make."

"Good thing I have plenty of supplies."

…

After all the hard work, I had made 17 crepes on my own, personalized to fit everyone that I made one for. They were all desert crepes so I dusted them with powdered sugar and chocolate sauce before neatly wrapping them up and putting them on a platter that I was borrowing from Francis.

"Well, all done."

Francis rubbed my back and said, "Bien fait, petit chef."

"Why do you keep calling me 'little chef'?"

He looked at me, shocked. "I thought you said you didn't know French."

"But I can take good guesses."

"Well, do you want me to call you something else?"

"No, I'm just wondering why you call me that."

He kinda smiled an said, "I thought I fit you perfectly."

I nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"Would you like me to help you get this in the car?"

"I can carry it… but do you think you can get the door?"

"Pas de problème."

I assumed that that meant "No problem".

I picked up the platter and made my way to the door, which Francis had opened for me.

We both went out into the cold night air and my the way to my car.

He opened the back seat door and I set the platter on the seat.

He shut the door and opened my drivers door.

"Drive safe, petit chef."

"I will."

He lightly kissed my forehead before I got into the car.

I waved to him as I pulled away.

…

I pulled into my driveway.

I opened my back door and grabbed the platter, kicking the door shut.

I rested the platter on my hip as I opened the front door and walked in the house.

I went into the kitchen and saw that everyone had just finished dinner in the dinning room.

Uncle Arthur was pretty peeved about me missing dinner.

"Tell me, how is it that learning how to cook take this long?"

"Hey, making enough unique desert crepes for this big of a family is very time consuming."

My father looked at me. "You made crepes for everyone. "

I nodded and said, "There's a list of what everyone gets, if you guys want them."

I was starting to head up to my room when dad said, "Don't you wanna know if we like them?"

"If you you want me to know your opinions, tell me. If you don't, don't. I don't care either way."

I was lying; for some reason I cared what they thought. Maybe because I was hoping I had a future in cooking. But, if I started being sentimental towards the people who held me back my whole life, they were gonna think that I had given up. And I was far from giving up.

I started to walk up stairs again when dad said, "Wait. Can I, at least, try one before you go."

"… Sure."

I handed him his crepes. Cherries and syrup; his favorite topping for his pancakes.

He bit into his crepe and chewed it, thoughtfully.

Suddenly, his eyes were wind.

"Honey, this is delicious."

"… Thanks."

"No, I mean it. You did a good job."

"… Thanks."

"Everyone, come try one."

I grabbed Madison and Alena's crepes before my family (except for Uncle Arthur) crowded the platter.

I looked back at them, trying their crepes, seeing happy and satisfied faces.

I continued up stairs.

I went into my room and locked the door behind me.

I knocked on my closet three times.

The closet door slid open and my cousins fell to the floor in a tangled jumble.

Alena jumped to her feet first, fixing her hair. "You need a wardrobe up-"

I shoved her crepe into her mouth before she could finish her sentence. "Enjoy."

I hand Madison her crepes and they both gobbled the things down.

"That was delicious… did that thing have carbs."

"Yours was straight pineapple; no artificial sweeteners or added carbs. Madison, you got apples."

Madison lay on the floor, smiling, and said, "This is the best idea you've ever had."

"Even better than this?"

I brought up my booze stash.

"… That's a close second."


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

I grabbed my messenger bag and started heading out when dad stopped me.

"Where are you going?"

Excuse at the ready, I turned to him and said, "Francis wants me to get some supplies for next time. Then, I'm sleeping over at Madison's apartment."

"Oh. Do you need any money?"

"No. I'm okay."

"Alright. Well, be safe."

"I will."

I walked out side and walked about a block before I saw Madison's Hummer.

I pulled the back door open and hopped in. Madison was driving and Alena was in the front passenger seat.

Madison wore a navy blue strapless dress with stars all over it. Alena wore blue skinny jeans and a red and white top with ¾ length sleeves that had holes in the shoulders.

Madison turned to me. "Any trouble?"

"Naw. Dad thinks I'm getting cooking supplies."

Alena looked at me. "You got a dress?"

I open my messenger bag and showed her the dress that I had shoved in there before leaving the house.

We all smiled.

Alena pumped her fist and said, "Finally, a night on the town! Let's go, girls!"

…

We drove into the city and, all the while I got dressed in the car.

The dress had had white, of the shoulder, short sleeves and a white sash around the waist. The rest was knee length navy blue.

While I was dressing, a car full of assholes pulled up along side us, saw me, and started cat-calling.

We girls looked at each other and, at the exact same time, gave them the finger and sped away.

Finally, we came to the night club.

It hadn't opened yet but the bouncer at the door new who we were so he let us in.

As we entered, all the male and waiters and bartenders greeted us with cat calls and howls.

I rolled my eyes and said, "Down, boys. Heel!

A bartender, by the name of Hugo, called to us and asked, "Hey ladies, how 'bout sharing a martini with a real man." He started showing off his body.

I smirked at him and said, "You know one?"

All the man started moaning at the burn that I just gave all of them.

"Hey, Alena, any time you wanna ride my surf board, just say the word."

Alena put on the cutest smile and said, "I'd rather drown."

While that asshole was recovering from his burn, another asshole popped up behind Madison.

"Hey, Madison, I got a new gun… in my pants."

"And I got one in my car… and I'll use it to make a new flavor of jerky. Jerky off."

We were just about to strut back to the green room when Hugo called to me and asked, "Hey, Lea. Today is your guys' official 1 year anniversary. You guys have been working here for a year."

I smirked and said, "And we're still sane. New years resolution accomplished."

He shrugged it off and said, "Why don't you a sing a song to celebrate the day that we, the handsome bachelors of the bar, came into your lives?"

"Hugo, the song is called, "It's Raining Men", not "It's Raining Jags Offs"."

We left the boys to wallow in their pain.

We went back to the Greenroom.

We set our bags down and got comfortable before turning on the TV and deciding what songs we were all going to sing that night.

Pretty soon, Hugo came back and said, "Why do I get you guys drinks when you keep calling us jag offs?"

"Because as long as you tolerate us, you still have a chance."

He looked at me for a second and said, "Good enough for me. Madison?"

"What else? An Alaska."

"Alena?"

"Pina Colada."

"And, Lea" He popped his eyebrows at me. "What's you fancy?"

I smirked and said, "Michael Buble on a bed of roses." The girls laughed and start whistiling sexily. "Until then, a Shandy will have to do."

…

Finally, it was time for the show to start.

The curtain drew back and Hugo said, "You know 'em. You love 'em. Please give a warm welcome to your Ice Queens; Lea, Madison and Alena!"

Everyone cheered as the music started. We all started singing and dancing.

(Lea=_Italics_

Madison=**Bold**

Alena=Underlined

All three=_**All three**_

_**I pick all my skirts to be a little too sexy  
>Just like all of my thoughts they always get a bit naughty<br>When I'm out with my girls I always play a bit bitchy  
>Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me<strong>_

_I'm the kind of girl that girls don't like  
>I'm the kind that boys fantasize<br>I'm the kind that your momma and your daddy were afraid you'd turn out to be like_

**I may seem unapproachable but that's only to the boys who don't have the  
>Right a approach or ride that makes a girl like me wanna hop in and roll<strong>

People think it's intimidating when a girl is cool with her sexuality I'm a 180 to the stereotype girls like staying home and being innocent

_**I pick all my skirts to be a little too sexy**_

_**Just like all of my thoughts they always get a bit naughty**_

_**When I'm out with my girls I always play a bit bitchy**_

_**Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me**_

**My mouth never takes a holiday  
>I always shock with the things I say<br>I was always the kid in school who turned up to each class bout an hour late**

And when it came to the guys I'd lay, 

I'd always pick the ones who wont figure out that I am clearly a rebel to the idea of monogamy

_People think it's intimidating when a girl is cool with her sexuality I'm a 180 to the stereotype girls like staying home and being innocent_

_**I pick all my skirts to be a little too sexy**_

_**Just like all of my thoughts they always get a bit naughty**_

_**When I'm out with my girls I always play a bit bitchy**_

_**Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me**_

We were all up on stage having a good time. Everyone was cheering for us (mainly because most of them were men who "wanted" us). I smiling. I was happy.

Then, I got a shock.

Sitting there, at the bar, watching intently, was Francis.

'Aw, shit.'

Sexy, sexy, sexy

**Naughty, naughty, naughty**

_Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy_

_**Me**_

_People think it's intimidating_

when a girl is cool with her sexuality

**I'm a 180 to the stereotype**

_**girls like staying home and being innocent**_

_**I pick all my skirts to be a little too sexy**_

_**Just like all of my thoughts they always get a bit naughty**_

_**When I'm out with my girls I always play a bit bitchy**_

_**Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me**_

_**I like all of my shorts to be a little too shortly  
>Unlike all of my guys I like them tall with money<br>I love all of my nights to end a little bit nasty  
>Can't change the way I am sexy naughty bitchy me<strong>_

I pick my skirts to be sexy  
>Just like my thoughts a bit naughty<br>When I'm out with my girls ...bitchy  
>Can't change I am<br>Sexy naughty bitchy me

I did my best to keep my care free smile on my face but it wasn't easy.

Madison and I broke off from Alena so that she could do her three song that she chose to sang that day.

The moment we stepped off the stage, Madison grabbed my shoulders and made me look at her. "What's up?"

I hissed at her. "Francis is in the audience."

"What?"

"I'm so screwed!"

"Why are you so worried? It's not like he thought you were a saint when you first him. Besides, since when have you ever cared what people think about you."

She was right. I had run away from home just before I had met him and I had told him the truth about that. And, I never cared whether people liked me or not.

'So… why do I care now?'

…

The night lingered on at a waining pace.

I had been nervous ever since I had seen Francis.

Alena had preformed her three songs. Madison had preformed her three songs. I was on in 10 minutes.

Hugo always escorted us from the stage to the green room, so, he showed up with Madison just as she finished.

I was still on the couch, worrying, with Alena giving my back a rub.

Madison joined us on the couch.

Hugo looked at him watch and said, "Look, I don't know what's wrong but if you could figure it out, that'd be great."

He was always such an asshole.

He started walking out of the room when Madison said, "Wait a minute! Isn't there something you want to give Lea?"

Hugo, slowly, looked her. "… I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb. The blond at the bar gave you a note and I know it's for her."

I jumped up from the couch and rushed to Hugo. "He sent me a note?"

Hugo started to look nervous. "Look, ladies, it's my job to keep you all safe. I don't know what the guy wants with you but he's way too old for you and-"

I grabbed him by his collar and bought his face close to my glaring one. "Give. Me. The. Note."

Hugo's shaking hand reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a folded up napkin and held it under my nose.

I ripped to note out of his hand and pushed him away, saying, "Now am-scray!"

Hugo stumbled out of the greenroom while Alena and Madison flanked me, looking down at the note.

I slowly unfolded it.

And there were words I was not expecting.

_Sing what you want and I will listen._

…

I marched on stage, everyone cat-calling and cheering for me.

I stood in front of the mic and the room fell silent.

I saw Francis's figure, sitting at the bar. I couldn't see his face but knowing he was there was enough to calm me so that I could sing.

_What have I done  
>I wish I could run<br>Away from this ship going under  
>Just trying to help<br>Hurt everyone else  
>Now I feel the weight of the world is<br>On my shoulders_

_What can you do when your good isn't good enough_  
><em>And all that you touch tumbles down<em>  
><em>'Cuz my best intentions keep making a mess of things<em>  
><em>I just want to fix it somehow<em>  
><em>But how many times will it take<em>  
><em>Oh how many times will it take for me<em>  
><em>To get it right<em>  
><em>To get it right<em>

_Can I start again_  
><em>With my faith shaken<em>  
><em>'Cuz I can't go back and undo this<em>  
><em>I just have to stay<em>  
><em>And face my mistakes<em>  
><em>But if I get stronger and wiser<em>  
><em>I'll get through this<em>  
><em>What can you do when your good isn't good enough<em>  
><em>I just want to fix it somehow<em>  
><em>But how many times will it take<em>  
><em>But how many times will it take for me<em>  
><em>To get it right<em>

_So I throw up my fist, throw a punch in the air_  
><em>And accept the truth that sometimes life isn't fair<em>  
><em>Yeah I sent out wish<em>  
><em>Yeah I sent up a prayer<em>  
><em>Then finally someone will see how much I care<em>

_What can you do when your good isn't good enough_  
><em>And all that you touch tumbles down<em>  
><em>Oh my best intentions keep making a mess of things<em>  
><em>I just want to fix it somehow<em>  
><em>But how many times will it take<em>  
><em>Oh how many times will it take<em>  
><em>To get it right<em>  
><em>To get it right<em>

Everyone applauded, though they were confused; I usually sang more rock-alternative songs.

But Francis said sing what I wanted to sing.

I didn't have to be told twice.


End file.
